Love Despite Change
by citysinger13
Summary: Following the events of Trespasser, Inquisitor Alice Trevelyan deals with the shock of her encounter with Solas, and worries over how much will change with such a vital part of her missing. CONTAINS TRESPASSER SPOILERS.


She was sure that if she tried, she'd be able to open her eyes. Every part of Alice's body ached with absolute exhaustion, but she was awake. But to open her eyes would mean facing a reality that she knew she wasn't prepared for—it would all become irreversibly, heartbreakingly _real_. So the eyes stayed shut, if only so she could pretend for a little while longer that this hadn't really happened.

A door opened and footsteps could be heard on stone floors. "Has she woken up yet?" That was Dorian's voice, concerned and urgent.

"Not yet, no," Cullen replied. His voice was closer to Alice. She knew if she reached out she could probably easily touch him. She should—it was clear in his voice that he was tired and wracked with worry. Alice wanted to smooth out his pain, like a sheet with wrinkles in it—just run her hand over it and make them disappear.

"It's been hours," Dorian said. His footsteps and voice came closer, and a chair creaked as he sat nearby.

"You think I don't know that?" he replied. "The healers said everything's fine with…" He trailed off and Alice felt a wave of reality try to sink over her. She pushed it away. "She's likely exhausted. That blasted thing was already causing a strain on her—to have it gone so suddenly probably shocked her." They were both silent for a minute. "Do you truly not know how it happened?" Cullen asked quietly.

"We tried to follow her through the last eluvian, but it had sealed behind her," Dorian replied with a tone that implied he had told this tale before. "All we could do was wait and hope she came back. Ten minutes later, she stumbled back through the mirror, one-armed, and then collapsed. Bull carried her back here. That is exactly what happened."

"And you think it was Solas who took the arm?" Cullen asked bitterly.

Alice tried vehemently not to remember the encounter with her friend. Tried not to remember what had happened. _"I'll change your mind, Solas. I won't let you make this mistake."_

" _Nothing would make me happier than to be proven wrong by you again, my friend."_

How, in the name of blessed Andraste, was she going to change his mind?

"That's who it turned out we were chasing—he must have been through that last eluvian," Dorian replied. "But Cullen—you know that the mark was killing her. By the time we got to that final eluvian, defeated that _beast_ of a saarebas, she was in terrible shape, barely able to breathe from the pain. I thought…" Dorian paused, taking a shaking breath. "I thought she would die right there in front of us."

"So you're saying you think Solas took her arm…what? To save her?"

"I think it's a possibility," Dorian replied. "If he had wanted to hurt her, he could have just left the arm and let it kill her. If he had just wanted the mark, why separate it from her so cleanly and with no wound?"

"There are a myriad of reasons he could have done this," Cullen mumbled. Surely his face was twisted in anger, his brain working to find a way to blame this event on someone.

"True," Dorian allowed. "But only she can tell us what happened, and at the moment that's not a possibility. So you are left only with my suspicions." Cullen only grunted in response, and Alice heard another chair creak and heavier footsteps than Dorian's walk across the room. It went silent again, and Alice was left with her suffocating thoughts.

It was impossible to forget now. She could no longer remain in a fantasy world where she was whole. All of her thoughts were focused on her left arm, that uncomfortable feeling of something missing. She had to look.

Alice opened her eyes.

The act was harder than she anticipated. Her eyelids were like metal curtains, requiring active force to pull up, and then the room was a blur. It took a few blinks to clear her sight, each of which were only slightly easier than the initial eye-opening. Her eyes eventually made out Cullen's back, facing her as he stared out a window. He was still in his formalwear, though it looked like he had unbuttoned several of the buttons and his sash was missing. They were in their bedroom at the Winter Palace (which officially belonged to her alone, but he stayed in as well) and by the look of the dim, orange light coming through the window, it was either dawn or dusk.

When she turned her head, she could see that Dorian was seated to her right in one of the armchairs near the bed, elbows resting on his legs as he leaned forward, seeming deep in thought. Her movement in his peripheral vision, however, seemed to catch his attention, and he looked to her, their eyes connecting.

After a second of stunned silence, Dorian smiled and sat up. "Well, hello there, my friend. So good of you to rejoin us. Cullen?" he called, but Cullen had already spun around at Dorian's voice, hurrying to Alice's side upon seeing her eyes open.

"Alice," he whispered, his voice full of relief. "Thank the Maker. I was—I thought—just, praise Andraste." He took her right hand in both of his own, squeezing slightly and bringing his lips to it to kiss.

She didn't respond. Very slowly, she turned to look to her left and took in the sight, perfectly visible thanks to the short-sleeved nightdress she had been dressed in—her arm, stopping at the elbow. Her breath hitched as the last bit of pretending fell away. It was gone. This had happened.

Cullen squeezed her hand again. "Shh, it's all right," he told her. "You're all right."

Alice pulled her right hand very gently from Cullen's grasp, slowly reaching to where her left should be, her marked hand. She grasped nothing but silk bedsheets, her fingers leaving wrinkles when she let go. A tear slid down her cheek, surprising her a little. She hadn't realized she was crying.

"Are you in pain?" Cullen asked. "I can call for a healer."

Again, she stayed silent. Her eyes were focused where a hand should lay. Where the light of her anchor should be shining, her Maker-granted gift, all there was were wrinkles in a sheet.

* * *

Cullen tried his very best to coax Alice into speaking. He would talk near endlessly, something that was surely very uncomfortable for him. She looked at him, listened to him, but couldn't bring herself to respond or say anything. Every time she considered it, her chest tightened and she found it difficult to breathe.

"You have to tell me what you're thinking about," he said to her late in the afternoon (it had, in fact, turned out to be dawn when she had woken). "I need to know if there's something I can do." Alice didn't respond, just stared at Cullen's face. When had he developed so many lines around his eyes, she wondered? Had he always looked like that, or were they just lines from the constant state of worry he was in? "You can't do this, Alice. You can't retreat into yourself this time," Cullen told her. "I'm your husband. Please, talk to me. We'll get through this together."

She shook her head ever so slightly. Her husband. That poor man had to be her husband. He might have it worse than her. The thought of how much pain he was surely in was exhausting to her, and she leaned her head back against the pillows, shutting her eyes. She had flitted between sleep and wakefulness all day, and the times when she managed to fall asleep were by far the best.

"Alice," Cullen sighed. His hands squeezed her right hand slightly and she felt him press his lips gently to her fingers, then resting his forehead against the edge of the bed. She practically trembled with the desire to speak to him, with the need to hold him close and accept his love and understanding, but at the same time she couldn't.

There was a knock on the door. "What is it?" Cullen growled. The door creaked open.

"I'll forgive your dreadful manners for the time being, since I know you are under a certain amount of stress." Dorian. He had left this morning and not been back since. "A word, if I may, Commander?"

Cullen didn't move right away, but Alice soon heard his chair creak with movement and then felt his lips brush against her forehead as he leaned over her. "I'll be back," he whispered to her. She still kept her eyes closed.

"Josephine is requesting your presence," Dorian said, his voice quiet, but not so quiet that Alice couldn't hear.

"Are you…" Cullen began incredulously, then stopped himself. "My _wife_ is in bed in a state of shock, after having just lost her _arm_! And Josephine is _requesting my presence_?"

"Yes, well, she is busy trying to contain the Exalted Council. She thinks that if you update everyone on the Inquisitor's condition…" Dorian trailed off and Alice imagined that both of them had looked over at her in that moment. "Is she doing any better?"

"She still won't talk to me," Cullen replied bitterly. "She's fallen asleep again, I think. Look, I'll…yes, I'll go give them the news about her condition. I don't suppose they have any information other than rumour?"

"Josephine has neither confirmed nor denied the exact harm done to the Inquisitor," Dorian replied. "She's just said that she's been injured. We could perhaps use an impassioned speech about exactly what she gave to save all of their ungrateful arses."

"Yes…" Cullen muttered. "Will you…I don't want to leave her alone. The healer checks in, but I don't want her to wake up and be alone."

"I'll stay with her," Dorian answered. "Of course."

There was a pause, no movement or conversation. And then she heard Cullen's footsteps go out the door and, a moment later, Dorian's lighter-footed ones approach her bedside. "I know you're not asleep, my friend," he told her, his tone light. "This trick might work on your dear, sleep-deprived husband, but I am unfortunately too clever for you to fool."

Alice didn't answer, but let her eyes slowly open and turned to look at Dorian who stood at her bedside. He smiled, taking a seat in the chair that Cullen had vacated. "That's better, isn't it? No need for pretending." Dorian sat back in the chair, crossing his left leg over his right comfortably.

"Cole is in rather a state, you know," he commented. "You may have managed to make the boy more human, but he still feels all of that pain. And apparently, you have a lot of it right now."

Alice felt a lump rise in her throat and she swallowed it down, turning to look at the ceiling again. Of course. Cole. Surely he knew everything she was thinking right now—every single one of her thoughts was filled with grief and anxiety by the bucket-load.

"He was trying to come up here, but I told him he might do more harm than good at this point. Kept saying something like 'missing, musing, miserable,' and waxing on about how utterly destroyed you are feeling. The poor thing was nearly in tears. I sent him to Maryden—perhaps she'll be able to calm him."

She kept staring at the ceiling, breathing in and out steadily, and traced the lines of the elaborate gold carving with her eyes. Dorian's eyes could be felt on her and she refused to turn her head to meet them. "Bull sends his best wishes," he continued, his voice not betraying a bit of impatience. "You know **,** I don't think I've ever seen him as upset as when he was carrying you back through the crossroads unconscious. Shook him up, seeing you so beaten up and helpless. He wishes he could have done more to help against the Qunari threat, thinks that maybe if he had we could have avoided this. I told him it's nonsense, obviously."

Alice shook her head slightly, the sound of her hair moving against the pillows seeming so loud in the room. Why was Dorian saying this? She didn't want to hear it.

"And then there's Varric," Dorian continued, gesturing vaguely towards the door. "You know exactly how much he's lost—I mean, he wrote it all in a book. He's holding together, but he's just terrified at the thought of losing you too, I think. Wants to send for the best healers that can be found and pay for it personally. Of course, the Inquisition doesn't really need the money, but I think he wants to feel useful."

 _Stop_ , Alice thought. _Stop telling me this. Stop talking._

Dorian sighed deeply, lacing his fingers together. "Then there's dear Josephine and Leliana—pardon me, your Divine Victoria. The ambassador was in tears a few hours ago, collapsed in the Divine's arms. I can only imagine how that must look to people, our steadfast representative weeping in the arms of what many imagine to be our opposition—luckily they were in a secluded area. It seems that Josephine finally has been dealing with too much with this on top of everything. She handles so much so well, but…" Dorian shrugged and sighed again. "I'm not sure the Divine is much better. But she'll stay strong. She owes her hopeful outlook to you, so she has told me."

"Ah!" he tutted, as though another thought had only just struck him. "And _Cassandra_. Our dear seeker is stuck between wanting to be at your side and wanting to destroy everything in her sight. She's been sparring with Warden Rainier—who seems to be communicating mainly in grunts and growls since he heard the news. Reverted back into grizzly bears, those two."

 _Shut up. I can't hear this. They should all go. They shouldn't care._

"And that Vivienne," Dorian continued. "She is quite a strong woman. She's kept a brave face, speaking with the nobles, allaying fears and singing your praises to all who will listen, about how you always make fine choices and are the strongest person she knows. Not to mention all the mage healers she's personally sent to check on you." Dorian paused a moment. "I saw her take just a moment to herself in the gardens though. She looks absolutely exhausted. I can't imagine worrying for you while keeping a smile has been easy."

There was another pause in Dorian's monologuing. "Haven't even seen Sera," he said quietly after a few moments. "No one has. She disappeared."

Dorian stood up and walked over to the window, looking out. "Not to mention the people. Your people, the Fereldans, the Orlesians—no matter how much argument there is, they are all concerned. A million rumours are flying about what's happened to the Inquisitor. So many are sure you're dead. I've seen more than one bawling individual."

Alice closed her eyes. _I can't have people caring. I can't._ She waited for Dorian to say more, but he didn't, instead choosing to keep gazing out the window. Finally she was left in quiet.

But now all her mind could do was replay all Dorian had said. She could only picture her friends worried, upset, concerned and sick over _her_ health and safety.

"I wish they would stop."

The words were out of her mouth before she realized that she was going to speak. Her voice was hoarse and weak, and she involuntarily cleared her throat. Dorian turned away from the window, looking upon her with slight surprise.

"What was that?" he asked, careful to speak gently and keep any shock out of his voice—as if she were a frightened rabbit that might be scared away at too quick a movement, as if he feared she would become mute again in only a moment.

She did stay quiet for a moment, collecting her thoughts now that she seemed able to voice them. "I wish they…I wish they wouldn't weep and worry," Alice said quietly. "They shouldn't. I'm…not anything, not now."

Dorian approached her again, foregoing the chair and sitting instead on the edge of the bed. "Now why are you saying that?"

Alice went to gesture with her left hand and felt the strange sensation of only half her arm moving. A shudder ran through her with it. "This," she murmured. "It's gone. Andraste's blessing, the Anchor…it's gone. I'm just as I was before I was the Inquisitor. Even worse—my hand is gone, Dorian."

It almost looked like Dorian wanted to smile, but he kept his face neutral. "And that is reason enough in your mind that your friends should not care for you?"

"I…" Alice hesitated and shook her head, closing her eyes. "I don't know. What am I now, now that I'm not…not… _special_ anymore?"

Now Dorian did smile, just a small one. He reached out and pushed a loose strand of dark hair away from Alice's face. "My dear friend," he told her, his voice almost scolding. "You are perhaps the most special person I know. And none of it has anything to do with your mark."

"It did though," she whispered, feeling shame creep up in her chest. "You didn't know me before the mark. It changed me; I had to change because of it. It made me a leader. Before it, you never would have been my friend. Cullen never would have looked twice at me. I never could have led an Inquisition."

"That doesn't mean the Anchor was what did those things," Dorian reminded her. "Perhaps it led you to change. But it wasn't the change itself. You are yourself. The Anchor was a part of you, but you aren't changed for the loss of it."

Alice shook her head slightly, despite hearing and feeling the truth in Dorian's words. "I don't know if it will be the same now," she told him.

"It probably won't," Dorian agreed. "But that, my friend, was always obvious. Things were always going to change, because they always do. Fortunately, you get to decide how you do or don't change."

With a deep breath, Alice directed her gaze to look into Dorian's eyes, full of reassurance and admiration. "They'll still love me?" she asked him, a tiny bit of calm coming to her mind. "Without the mark?"

Dorian took her right hand in his, squeezing it. "They love you, Alice. Not the mark. But you."

Alice nodded, feeling the last of those fears slip away in the face of Dorian's confidence. A tear slipped down one cheek—just one. "I love them too," she said. "All of them." She closed her eyes, weariness overtaking her again. "You should tell them I'll be all right."

"You can tell them yourself later, my friend," Dorian said, his hand squeezing hers slightly again. "Rest for now, however. The healer has said you need your rest."

With so many fears assuaged, she fell into the first peaceful sleep she'd had in a long time.

* * *

Alice woke again in the night, the room dark apart from a few candles here and there. Cullen lay on the bed beside her, still dressed on top of the covers, warm against her, arms holding her close. She thought he might be asleep from the evenness of his breathing, but when she moved slightly to look at his face, he immediately stirred.

"Love?" he murmured, his voice rough from sleep or perhaps lack of it. "Alice, are you awake? Are you all right?" He pushed his body up from the pillows, supporting himself on one hand while the other still rested on her waist.

She stared into the look in his eyes—that look of love and devotion that she had seen in his eyes every day for years. Alice let herself reach up with her right hand, letting fingers trace over the lines of worry here and there, imagining smoothing them away.

"I love you," she said to him, quietly but surely.

His eyes lit up at the words, and Alice knew that Dorian had not informed Cullen of their talk earlier. Cullen pulled her into a kiss quickly, his left hand moving from her waist to her cheek, and laughed, letting their foreheads rest against each other. "Alice," he laughed. "Oh, Maker. Alice."

"I love you," she repeated, not breaking their eye contact, keeping her eyes trained on those golden-brown ones that she loved so much. "And you love me."

"So much," he agreed. "I love you so much. You're alive, Alice."

Alice swallowed and took a deep breath. "I am. And I'm ready. To be me. Without…it."

Cullen looked confused for a minute and then seemed to understand. "And I'll love you no matter what," he assured her. "I'll love you more every day."

Alice looked thoughtful for a moment. "I think I will too," she finally said. She pulled her gaze from Cullen just for a moment to glance at her missing hand—the sight still stung, but not as much. "I think I'll love me too."


End file.
